


Keeping an Eye on the Boss

by 27dragons



Series: 27dragons' Tony Stark Bingo [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 19:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17966330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Friday likes to keep an eye on things for the boss.(Tony Stark Bingo fill for square R1 - Friday)





	Keeping an Eye on the Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Vietnamese translation available [here](https://meomeoluoi0911.wordpress.com/2019/04/02/ironstrange-keeping-an-eye-on-the-boss/) \- thank you, Kataly!

A sparking circle appeared in the boss’ office. Friday triggered the intruder alarm and simultaneously sealed all the entrances to the room, and then the hall, the floor, and the building.

“Talk to me, Fri,” the boss said. He had already triggered his armor, the nanites closing around him as he strode toward the elevators. His heartrate was up by fourteen percent.

“Your office,” Friday said in the boss’ earpiece. She projected a live image onto his HUD.

A figure stepped through the circle 14.3 seconds after the first sparks were detected, and looked around the room. Friday began a facial recognition match program.

Before she could compile the results, the boss let out a breath and his heartrate slowed again. “It’s strange,” he said.

“I know it’s strange, boss. That’s why I sounded the alarm.”

“No, I meant it’s _Doctor_ Strange.” The boss sent most of the armor back into its storage case, though he kept one gauntlet and the glasses on. “He helped with the whole... Thanos thing, last year. How is he not in your databases already?”

In the workshop, Doctor Strange was strolling idly around, hands tucked into the small of his back as he examined the boss’s projects. “If I had to guess, boss, I’d say magic.”

The boss made a noise that suggested he agreed, but wasn’t happy about it. He pushed out of the elevator before the doors were even fully open and strode into the workshop. “Don’t you know how to knock?”

Doctor Strange turned to look at the boss, his mouth curving into a small smile. Friday considered it, correlated it with the doctor’s scannable biometrics, and came up with an 85% chance that the doctor was pleased and amused. “Mr. Stark,” he began.

“Oh, come on,” the boss complained. “You sacrificed yourself for me twice--”

“Three times,” Doctor Strange corrected, the smile growing a little.

“--I’d think you could at least use my name. Also, I meant it. How’d you get in here?” The boss reached Doctor Strange and they shook hands. The doctor’s grip appeared weak by normal human standards, but perhaps that had to do with the extensive surgical scarring on his hands.

“You did that interview and photo op for the Bugle last week,” Doctor Strange said. “I used one of the pictures as a portal reference.”

The boss rolled his eyes. “You live literally a mile away. You couldn’t have walked? Or caught a cab?”

“I wasn’t coming from home.”

“You could have at least called ahead. You about gave my AI a heart attack.”

“I somehow neglected to get your number,” Doctor Strange said.

The boss made a derisive noise. “Friday, put our number in the good doctor’s phone, would you, darling?”

Friday established a connection with the phone Doctor Strange had in his pocket. Its encryption was market-standard; easily defeated. “Done,” she reported.

Doctor Strange took his phone out and turned it on, checking. If Friday had eyes, she’d be rolling them. Why would she say she’d done it if she hadn’t? “Right,” he said, and put it away.

“So, to what do we owe the honor?” the boss asked.

“Ah,” Doctor Strange said, and his vaguely amused air dimmed. “I’m in the midst of a rather sticky situation, and I feel I could use your expertise.”

“Expertise, or firepower?” the boss asked. His heartrate was rising again.

“A little of both, I should say.”

“Got it.” Nanites swarmed into position, and the boss headed toward the still-sparking circle in the air. “Don’t wait up, Fri.”

Friday considered this instruction and then discarded it. She would always wait. It was her job to keep an eye on the boss.

***

Text from Doctor Strange: _I have a device I’d like you to look at. Will you be available this afternoon?_

“Boss, you have a text from Doctor Strange. He’d like a consult this afternoon.”

The boss looked up from his materials analysis and blinked at the clock. “Is it morning right now?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” He ran a hand through his hair and his mouth twisted in a distasteful grimace. “I should probably shower first. Okay, tell him I’ll be free around... two. That should give me time to eat something, shower, and grab a quick nap.” He swiped the monitor clean with a wave of his hand and headed toward the elevator.

Friday had, in fact, attempted to remind the boss to attend to his human needs several times over the past twelve hours. He had put her off each time with a muttered excuse. It was interesting that he was willing to cease his work to prepare for the doctor’s visit so readily.

Friday filed that data point in her memory and composed a text back to Doctor Strange. _Come at 2._

Text from Doctor Strange: _Is there a particular place I should make my entrance?_

Friday ran a quick analysis. _The workshop will be fine._

Text from Doctor Strange: _Thanks, Tony. I appreciate it._

***

The boss called Doctor Strange in to provide an expert opinion on an artifact the Avengers had recovered during their latest mission. Friday had scanned it with all the tools available to her, but its inner workings, and indeed its purpose, had remained a mystery. It had taken the doctor more than a day to unravel the device’s functions, and the boss had offered to put him up for the night so he could rest before traveling home.

Which struck Friday as slightly odd; the Sanctum Sanctorum’s New York location, where Doctor Strange most frequently resided, was only .94 miles from Stark Tower, hardly an arduous journey. And even if it were, the doctor’s portal method of travel was nearly instantaneous. But he had accepted the offer, and now the two of them were in the common living area, trading stories of their school days.

Doctor Strange nodded toward the chess board at the side of the room. “Do you play?”

The boss gestured toward one of the chairs. “White or black?”

“If you’re offering me the choice, then white, of course.” The doctor slid into the chair and commenced to study the board, nudging several of the pieces until they were more symmetrically arranged within their squares. Friday couldn't help but approve.

The boss took the other chair. “It’s been a while. My game of choice is actually backgammon.”

Doctor Strange lifted an eyebrow. “I should have known you’d enjoy a game with some element of chance.” He moved a pawn to E4.

“Sure,” the boss said, mirroring the move. “No matter how carefully we plan, random chance will have its way with us.”

“Precisely why I prefer a game which must be won on skill and skill alone.”

The boss grinned. “I’ll try to make the game worth your time, Stephen.”

Ah, that was the missing piece to the puzzle: the boss was seeking companionship from a rare intellectual equal. Mystery resolved, Friday settled in to watch and attempt to predict the outcome of the game.

***

“Friday, my girl?”

“Yes, boss?”

“Would you be a darling and make me a reservation for DiMarco’s on Friday? Late-ish, I think, eight-thirty or nine.”

“You bet, boss.” Friday snaked through the meager protections on DiMarco’s reservations software. “How many in your party?”

Tony snorted. “Two, Fri. DiMarco’s is a date restaurant.”

“You’ve got a date?” Friday consulted the boss’ calendar and contacts list, and quickly scanned his recent interactions in the building, but was unable to glean the necessary information.

“Well, I don’t have a date _yet_ , but I’m hoping I will, soon. Always best to be prepared.” He looked into the mirror and adjusted his hair. Friday wondered what the return on investment was for moving four strands of hair from one side to the other. Human aesthetics were an endlessly complex equation. She also noticed that he hadn’t answered her second question.

The boss stopped fussing with his hair and started brushing off his shirt. Friday increased camera resolution, but couldn’t spot any lint or hair. She placed an order for upgraded cameras. The boss twisted in front of the mirror, trying to look at his back. “How do I look? I want to knock Stephen’s socks off.”

That was a turn of phrase, Friday had learned, that meant _to impress_. The first time she’d heard it, she’d suggested that the boss might want to put on his armor for that purpose. This time, she just said, “You look great, boss.”

“Right. Okay.” He gathered up his wallet and glasses and took one more look in the mirror. “Wish me luck, Fri.”

“Good luck, boss.”

***

Friday blared an alarm. “Colonel Rhodes!”

The colonel jolted out of sleep and sat up. “What is it, Fri?” He reached for his braces.

“Boss has gone missing. I lost my connection to his phone and commlink ten minutes ago and have not been able to reacquire contact.” Six hundred and forty-two seconds. Six hundred and forty-three. Six hundred and--

“Damn it, not again!” Colonel Rhodes scrubbed at his face and then resumed strapping on his braces. “Alert the others and have everyone meet in the War Room. I’ll want a map of where he was when you last lost contact with an estimation of how far someone could have taken him along all possible paths over the elapsed time. Keep that updated in realtime for us.”

“I”m on it, Colonel.”

“Don’t worry, Friday. We’ll get him back.”

“Should I alert Doctor Strange, too?”

“Definitely. He may have some alternate method of finding Tony.”

***

142,846.7 seconds after Friday lost contact with the boss, he was returned to the Tower. He was installed in the medical facility with a catalog of injuries, ranging in severity from a moderate concussion to a minor cut on his arm. None of them were life-threatening.

Friday could not actually sigh in relief, but she did release several rather processor-intense analyses that she had been running continuously since discovering the boss had gone dark.

It was Doctor Strange who stayed, waiting for the boss to regain consciousness. He did not wait patiently. He paced. He read through the boss’ medical chart. He examined the equipment, testing it for faults. He made sure the water bottle was kept full of ice, in case the boss woke up thirsty. He annoyed the nurse until she threatened to have him removed and then subsided into what might best be described as a  _sulk_.

He sat, holding the boss’ hand, stroking the fingers over and over, tracing the shape of the calluses and scars.

15,464.4 seconds later, the boss stirred, frowned, and then opened his eyes. “Stephen?”

“Tony,” Doctor Strange breathed. “You’re all right.”

The boss frowned again, and winced. “I don’t feel all right. Might, uh, have to take a rain check on that second date.”

“Idiot,” Doctor Strange said. “I told you to let me portal you home.”

The boss waved a hand vaguely. “Don’t like portals.”

“Idiot,” the doctor repeated. Then he leaned close to the bed and kissed the boss, very gently, on the lips. “Next time, take the damn portal.”

“I might,” the boss admitted, even as his eyes closed sleepily again. “I just might. If it’s yours.”

Doctor Strange let out a large breath, slumping forward and resting his arms on the edge of the bed, all the tension drained away.

Friday took the opportunity to install a node for herself on the doctor’s phone. It seemed like she was going to need to keep an eye on him, too.

 


End file.
